Life Without You
by purpledragon6
Summary: An incident with the WABAC machine causes time to rewrite itself so that Mr. Peabody never adopts Sherman! With out the WABAC, its now up to Peabody to search through this new time line in order to find Sherman and set things right. First Peabody and Sherman Fanfiction.
1. Mr Peabody Writes

**A/N: First Peabody and Sherman fanfiction. ****Recap: I love this, both as a movie and as a cartoon. As a matter of fact, the cartoons were kind of the only thing I would watch age 10-present. I also have a great love for the song 'Hero' by Heather Dale. Why did I mention this? Eh, you'll see. Please enjoy and read and review.**

**Rated: K+ or low T (Hey, its serious but not that serious), ****Warning: Major father son moments and serious fluff and cuteness at times XD ,****Pairings?: Heck no! This is Peabody and Sherman for corns sake! (Didn't really like Penny by the way :P)**

**Plot: Yeah, so a lot of things can go wrong with the WABAC. In this story, something goes wrong with the WABAC and it rewrites history so Peabody never adopted Sherman! Now its up to our favorite dog to rewrite history or find an alternative way to get his son back!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: WABAC when.<strong>

Hello there, Mr. Peabody here, writing a brief letter to himself, a reminder if you will.

Now lets see where to begin. Well, I think the smartest choice is to start where this all began and work our way from there. This all began with the building of a device you see, Its called the WABAC, or put into simpler terms, a time machine. It was built originally for my young ward, my adoptive son, Sherman. At the time the boy had been adopted, I had never before took into consideration the amount of running room that a young child would need in order to be happy. Upon looking around the house one day, which had been littered with many fallen objects from the boy's earlier day of play I sighed and in that moment realized that something must be done.

"Happy Birthday, Sherman." I remember that had been how it all began.

Our first travel had been that day. They had traveled to a part of Greece... Or perhaps it was directly to the Roman Empire... Or maybe it was neither of these places... My memory seems to be failing me these days, though one memory of our last trip together, I know for sure had existed at one point in time. I regret that trip whenever I think back on it...

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><p><em>"Where are we going to now, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman asked, crossing over to the WABAC and placing his small hand carefully on the dial. <em>

_"Set the date for March 2nd, the year, 2007." I said without a pause and soon joined the boy over at the machine's door._

_"Gee, that doesn't sound very far back." Sherman commented as he turned the knob to the correct time. _

_I waited for the machine to complete its process before responding. It whirred to life in its usual way, sending a mix of colored smoke through the bottom crack of the door, leaving behind the scent of what would come if you smashed open an old lightbulb. Even as it's inventor, I could never figure out why it caused that type of reaction and I questioned it many times. Enough of my curiosity though, it was time to tend to Sherman's. _

_"Why, it was the day you were born, Sherman." I explained, reaching up and opening the door._

_Why I had picked this date? In all honesty, it was just a whim. No thought or reason behind it, just a simple whim. One that I thought on as we entered the way back and ended up in a hospital. The stained white walls were familiar to me. I had been here before, so I still remembered. Sherman on the other hand, did not. He was just a baby when he was here first, so he doesn't remember. _

_"Why are we at a hospital, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman asked, looking around the room slowly. _

_"Come along, Sherman. I have something to show you." I said stiffly, taking the boy's hand and leading him down the long stretching hallway. _

_I began to feel the same anxiety I had felt the first time I was in this place. To take care of this, I lowered my head and began to count the tiles on the floor. Just as I had done all but seven years ago. By the sixty-sixth tile, I mentally told myself to stop and let go of Sherman's hand. We were now stationed in front of the viewing window of the hospital. Motioning for Sherman to look through the glass, he did just that. Inside, there was an auburn haired child. His records did not contain the name of a mother or father to speak of. The name of an orphanage took their place. _

_"Is that me?" Sherman asked in wonder, turning to me for an answer. _

_"It is Sherman, and just down the street is I." I responded, turning on my heels and beginning to walk away. "I had a court date today."_

_"What for, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman asked as he rushed after me and tried to take my hand again, but I did not allow it, for some reason or another._

_I chose this question as the only one I would not answer on this trip. It should have been obvious to the boy the reasons behind my court meeting for I have told him countless times of what had happened on this date, though I always knew he wasn't paying me very much mind. Well, he would have to see for himself. I took him down to the courthouse. We used the WABAC so that we wouldn't have to walk all the way there. _

_So there we were. In the center of the courthouse. There was the judge and I, engaging in an intense stare down as I pleaded my case. All was going as it should have. Until- _

_"Who are you?" I heard myself say._

_Jerking my head up, I realized that it was my past self speaking. My heart rate sped up when I saw exactly who he was talking to. A little auburn haired child had found his way to the stand. It was my little auburn haired child._

_"Sherman!" I called to him in a frantic way and suddenly all eyes were on the past version of myself._

_"Do you know this child?" The judge asked. _

_"No. Not at all." Past me said, turning to look at Sherman again._

_"But you will." Sherman piped up sweetly._

_"Sherman! Don't tell him that!" I found myself saying, forgetting where we currently were and who was in our presence. _

_Never once did anyone look to the back of the room to find the true source of the voice. All eyes were still on the very confused dog that stood in the stands. _

_"What on Earth are you talking about?" He asked, adjusting his wide rimmed glasses on the edge of his nose. _

_"In the future, I'm your son, and we go on lots of cool trips together." Sherman said, folding his arms behind his back. _

_"No... Idiot!" My eyes widened as I watched the scene in horror and only hoped that nothing more would be said on the matter. _

_"I do not have a son yet," My past self began. "Even if I did, why on Earth would it you? I am a very busy dog, and someone with your- Energetic nature, does not seem a good fit, now does it?" _

_Freezing in place, I looked to my past self, wondering why on earth I would ever say such a thing! That wasn't like me at all. That is until I remembered briefly the type of person I had been before I had adopted the boy. After this, I then looked to Sherman, his eyes just as wide with shock and his mouth hung open a bit. Slowly, my eyes turned to the judge, who looked disapproving at the dog in the stand. _

_"Oh no..." I muttered, looking over at Sherman again. _

_Was it just me, or did he seem more... Transparent... _

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><p>By the time we returned to the WABAC, not only had I realized that Sherman was no longer at my side, but also that I was back in my own apartment. The WABAC having unbuilt itself. If you have guessed by now, my past self did not win his case that day. Which leads back up to present day, where I now stand on a slowly decaying timeline, writing everything down in a letter form so that I can remember that it all had happened. That at one point I had won my case and at one point, Sherman was my boy. If you are reading this, then you know that by now, I am no longer here.<p>

Where I am going, I haven't the slightest. What I am doing though, I know all to well. I have gone to find Sherman, if he still exists in this world. I am not going to rebuild the WABAC, because that had been what started this whole thing. I will continue to send letters to myself however, to mark my progress in my search. Until next time.

-Mr. Peabody.

P.S: I believe I remembered to shut the oven off in the kitchen before I left, but like I said before though, I haven't been myself lately so if I didn't then please remind me to do so, later.


	2. Of Events That Had and Hadn't Happened

**A/N: My laptop charger stopped working last night so my laptop didn't get charged so I have to wait until 6th period to get a new battery or else they'll charge me and give me a detention. I know, that sounds stupid but hey, its true and its highschool. I am at 26% right now and I'm going to be working my butt off to finish these chapters before my laptop dies.**

**Chapter Plot: Regular POV. This chapter takes place after the first letter was written and the search begins. Unfortunately, as the original events of the future begin to fade from Peabody's memory and with news of a missing child (possibly Sherman) he may find this search to be more difficult than he had expected.**

**Quote: None.**

**Notes: Sorry if this chapter is a bit confusing, but these events are going to be very important in future chapters. They set the knew set of events into motion.**

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><p>The date is now March 2nd, 2010. When the WABAC disassembled itself, it had done it with the remaining member of the team still in it. It then spit him out on the date it had been built originally, and left the dog contemplating why on Earth he thought that creating blueprints for time machine had been a smart idea. Another thought had been, why he thought he had the time to build one with a little three year old running around. He came to the conclusion that at the time, he had been a much different person. One who did not always feel the need to think things through. He then made a mental note to do more of that to prevent future incidents.<p>

Then, he went to an old wicker desk and withdrew a piece of paper and a pen. It was out on a whim that he began to write about Sherman, drawing out the boy in a way to it that he saw fit to his character, adding in the more than painful mistakes that both he and Sherman had made on the last trip they had together. He did this to mark the beginning of a plan, or a set of blueprints even, to make sure that what ever happened in the near future did not cause another unraveling. After this, he folded the letter carefully, not caring much for any ink spears that may accrue from it, and slid it carefully into the pocket of his heavy winter jacket. It was then at this point, that another sheet of paper had been taken out and this time, a shopping list was written.

He needed an accuse to leave the house after all, and he also needed a task that he knew for sure could be completed before the day's end so that he could at least have the satisfaction of knowing that he had not wasted his time today. Grabbing his coat, he put it on and made for his home's exit. Stumbling out into the cold streets below his penthouse apartment, the white beagle gripped the folds of his jacket in one paw in a vain attempt to block out the chilly air of winter. With a quick survey of his surroundings, he let out a deep breath and started off down the sidewalk in the direction of the general store. Taking out his quickly scribbled list, he glanced over it for what felt like the fiftieth time that day before putting it away again.

_'-Milk, eggs, butter...Is there anything else I'm forgetting?'_ He ratted off silently in his head, then went to check the list again.

He did this at least two more times before the entire list had been memorized and the store was just ahead. That was two times longer than it usually took, but he figured that his aging, sleep deprived mind had been the cause of all of this, nothing more was factored in. Upon arriving at the store, he grabbed a cart from the outside lot, brushed the snow off, and entered the store. Without a small child with him to make a scene or mess of colored cereals, this shopping trip was a stiff and scheduled act that ended just as soon as it had begun. Ending with a quick comment of the obnoxious background noise that played over head. It was such a quick process that it almost seemed like time had wasted itself anyway and the trip had ended up being a pointless venture.

It almost seemed this way, but no. It was something that had to be done every Friday out of the week and once it was over he did not have to go again for another seven days, regardless of if he wanted to or not. Hurrying to pay, the dog rushed out of the store, leaving it behind in the past of the day, where he would never return to it the same way again. This event, like all the others, was nothing but a few blinks in his lifetime so he chose not to weigh on this. He had much bigger things to worry about.

_'Such a bothersome task though... I must have wasted at least twenty minutes of my time today because of it.' _The dog thought, glancing over his bag of items to the path in front of him, feeling a bit disappointed in himself.

It was a good thing he looked up though, or he never would have seen the small tot before running into it. Stopping quickly on his heels, he looked down at the tightly bundled thing and smiled softly before muttering an apology. The child blinked and looked up at him with a set of large brown eyes that were as wide as saucepans. That was all he could see of the child, for the rest of it had been covered in a heavy knit, black, wool cap and a hideously striped orange and yellow jacket that was at least two sizes to big.

"Hi!" The child, about three, greeted while tugging down the scarf around it's neck with its gloved hands, reviling a tiny freckled nose and a little toothy grin. "It cold!"

"Hello." The dog returned the greeting and then carried on his way while still responding to the child's second statement. "And why, yes it is. Shouldn't you be inside little one?"

Something suddenly stopped him from taking another step. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and saw a child holding his coat. It was the same boy, who in an instance of being spotted, let go of the jacket and carried on his own merry way, which appeared to be to the same general store Peabody had been in earlier. Raising an eyebrow as the odd action, Peabody shook his head and left down his own path, though a feeling of dread now hung heavy around him.

_'Those eyes...' _They reminded him so much of the eyes of another, whose name he couldn't quite place yet.

He began to think back on the baby that had almost been- No, who was his boy at one point. He remembered the first time they met in that darkened alleyway, when those brown eyes looked into his. They were so closely matched to the one's of the child he had just spoken to, that he began to wonder if the boy who had just passed him by was in fact Sherman. A little hope began to rise in his chest, but soon dropped abruptly and shattered like a vase when he remembered that his boy did not have a freckled face. At that moment, another thought had accrued to him.

He could give up this whole search and simply try again at an adoption. Forget about a point in history where something had happened or almost happened and just try again else where. There were hundreds if not millions of little boys that he could choose from. Ones with different colored hair and eyes, or maybe he could find another toddler with brown eyes and tufts of silly red hair. There were millions of those of course, but there was only one Sherman. Sherman, as you all know, is Mr. Peabody's boy.

"It had happened. I know it had." He found himself muttering allowed to himself. "There is no one out there who can prove it other wise."

Making a quick turn to the right and making fast work of bounding up the stairs to his little home, he made up his mind to drop of the groceries before officially beginning his search. Starting of course, with the Hardrock Orphanage just down the street, hoping to find, if not Sherman, than at least a lead to him. Stopping at the front door, he reached into his pocket to produce a key, but stopped the moment his fingertips touched what felt to be a newspaper clipping.

"What on earth?" He muttered as he reached into it and tugged the clipping out, which was fairly new, possibly from yesterday's post. "How did this get into my pocket?"

He unfolded it carefully and took a glance at the headline. What he read made his heart stop and his blood run cold. The photo under it was of a small child, possibly three or four. His brown eyes were hidden behind a harsh glare on his oversized glasses and his tuft of dark hair fluttered carelessly over his forehead. No name had been printed, but the dog knew who it was a picture of.

**Have you seen this child?**


	3. In Order to Find His Boy

**A/N: Hey guys. I'm back and I'm more annoyed than ever with the librarians at my school. So I think I mentioned in chapter two that my laptop was only at 26%, well I found out that it was because of a glitch in my charger/Motherboard so my laptop will never charge no matter how long I keep it on. Well, I took it in to the library and told them what had happened and even brought in one of the chargers to prove that it didn't work. They said that since it wasn't from the school it probably messed with the system but that is stupid because its the same charger, just from a different laptop and I told them my sister's laptops are fine but mine isn't. Never the less, they still said they were charging me for the charged battery -_- Three times this week! I swear! Anyway, I'm going to get this sorted out. **

**Sorry, I'm ranting, anywho, just wanted to point that out in case I write rage in this chapter. **

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><p>Rage was the only word that Peabody could think of using at the moment as he read through the rest of the article, or at least what he could before the clipping was cut off. The rage came from not only the contents of the article, but also the thoughts in the back of his mind which quickly reminded him of how difficult that this search would be now. If the child was missing without a trace then that meant that he was without a lead to Sherman.<p>

_'Have you seen this child? Sherman is a young child and former inhabitant of the HardRock Orphanage. He was last seen leaving the Orphanage with his newly adopted family, the Petersons. The family reported him as missing just three days after the adoption and the child has not been seen since. The child has red hair, brown eyes, and is roughly 4 feet in height. He was last seen in the family's new home in California. If you see him, please contact-'_

"Petersons..." Peabody muttered under his breath as he folded the paper. "Of course..."

Mr. Peterson had been an old rival of the dog back in their collage years. He was also against Peabody when it came to the adoption of Sherman, and was the one person who seemed to make it a sport to rub the failed court date in the dog's face. If he was still at it, then he definitely scored the touch down in this moment. This really enraged Peabody as several scenarios of what the truth behind Sherman's disappearance might have been began to race through his head. He linked the adoption and the move to the plan in the disappearance of the boy. After a bit though, he didn't really see the logic behind this, but the ranting made him feel a little better.

"Did the orphanage do a background check or did they just send a child home with the first man they saw in a suit!?" Peabody exclaimed, frowning as he opened the clipping again and began to read through it again. "Mr. Peterson is not mature enough to handle even his own child!"

He glared at the name until it began to blurr and warp. Blinking, he tossed the piece of paper onto the coffee table and rushed off to his bedroom and began to pack a bag. The boy was said to have last been seen in California, which was quite a distance away from Peabody's penthouse. With a heavy breath, he looked around the room and began to pack everything he thought he would need. He then zipped to his laptop and began to book a hotel to stay in when he got there. There was just one problem though.

**Booked Solid until April 27th. **

"Oh God..." The dog muttered as he flipped through all of the hotels listed, all which read off the same thing. "This can not be coincidental!"

He slammed his laptop shut and then banged his head on it and shook his head. Upon looking up, he turned to look at the hanging wall clock. He hated that old thing souly due to its old fashioned appearance. It reminded him of that God forsaken time machine (Which he would never rebuild again, even if he did get Sherman back) which had caused all of this. It was five PM sharp when it dinged loudly and the little figures popped out of the coo-coo clock and began to dance. It was the same dance they always preformed at five o'clock on the dot, no matter what was changed, that point in time was always the same with that clock...

"Could it be..." Peabody stood and went to the clock and wound it back a minute. "That..."

Instantly the figures zoomed back into their appropriate spots and only returned at five on the dot when the clock was wound back. Time was keeping the pieces from moving at any other given time, from going anywhere else other than their stands. The time and pieces were intertwined and time was the controller in all of this.

"This is a fixed point..." Peabody's lips twitched into a strange little smile as he realize that on this line, he was never meant to have Sherman. "Well played time... But you seem to forget-"

He suddenly removed a figure from the clock and held it in his hands. It was a little wooden carving of a puppy dog with polka-dots. The minute passed and the figures appeared again, minus one dog that was no longer in the path of that event. With a soft laugh, he set the clock down and stood up. He slowly then returned to his bag and lifted it up.

"This is Mr. Peabody you are dealing with." He spoke to himself as he grabbed his house keys and headed towards the front door, determined to out-whit time itself.

Next stop: California.

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><p><strong>Meanwhile: <strong>

A little red-haired boy looked down at the article in his hands. It was a clipping from the **Have You Seen Me **section of the newspaper. The child this week being himself. Looking around the dark area was in, he slowly closed his eyes and tried to call back the one thing that always gave him comfort when he was frightened. It was the memory of a dream, or at least what he thought was a dream, of a little white dog, and his crazy little time machine.


	4. Sherman

**A/N: Geez, has it been a while. Looks like a couple of weeks when I look at it! Anywho, I've finally gotten around to updating (Me: Holy crap! 1002 views O.o Epic!) So here comes an update. **

**Chapter Summary: Lets visit Sherman for a little bit and then we'll see what Peabody is up to as he attempts to outwit time itself.**

**Additional Notes: As a bonus treat, I have decided to post a picture of ONE scene from this story. Which ever reviewer is able to guess which scene it is going to be will be featured in the photo (or whatever they want to be seen that is age appropriate) **

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><p>In the cold streets of a California alley way, a little red-haired boy looked down at the article in his hands. It was a clipping from the <strong>Have You Seen Me <strong>section of the newspaper, the child this week being himself. Looking around the dark area he was in, he slowly closed his eyes and tried to call back the one thing that always gave him comfort when he was frightened. It was the memory of a dream, or at least what he thought was a dream, of a little white dog, and his crazy little time machine. Taking a deep breath of frosty air, the boy attempted to drift off into an uneasy sleep...

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><p><em>"Who are you?" The dog in the witness stand said, folding his arms in a disproving way over his chest. <em>

_Sherman blinked in a confused way. The dog had always been so loving in all of his dreams, and yet now, he just seemed cold and bitter. Now if this alone did not confuse the boy, then this next part did._

_"Sherman!" The voice of the dog before him called out, but this time his voice sounded farther away, and more frantic._

_"Do you know this child?" The judge asked suddenly, having not noticed the second voice. _

_"No. Not at all." The dog said, turning towards the judge._

_"But you will." Sherman piped up sweetly, trying to coax the dog he was used to out._

_"Sherman! Don't tell him that!" The second voice piped up, sounding a little louder by now. _

_Never once did anyone look to the back of the room to find the true source of the voice. All eyes were still on the very confused dog that stood in the stands and the even more confused little boy who stood before him. While Sherman wanted to turn and inspect the source of the second sound, he chose not to, fearing that it might wake him up from the dream he was having. _

_"What on Earth are you talking about?" The dog asked, adjusting his wide rimmed glasses on the edge of his nose. _

_"In the future, I'm your son, and we go on lots of cool trips together." Sherman said, folding his arms behind his back and smiling a tad at the fond words. _

_In real life, he always wanted a dad that would refer to him as a son. He always wanted someone who was a gentle and caring soul like the dog that had visited him in his dreams ever since he was capable of processing a coherent thought. Unfortunately, he had been stuck into the Petersons' family. The father, being much like the dog in this dream was. Cold and bitter, and uncaring for the child. _

_"No... Idiot!" The second voice muttered, and Sherman heard it and winced at the cruel word._

_"I do not have a son yet," The white animal said in a disproving way. "Even if I did, why on Earth would it you? I am a very busy dog, and someone with your- Energetic nature, does not seem a good fit, now does it?" _

_Freezing in place, the boy attempted to process everything he had just been told but found that he couldn't. Instead, Sherman stood unmoving from his spot, his eyes were wide with shock and his mouth hung open a bit. Slowly, his eyes turned to the judge, who looked disapproving at the dog in the stand. _

_"Sherman!" The voice called again and instantly, Sherman turned to face it, hoping that it would wake him up from this horrible dream. _

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><p>In an instant, his wet eyes flew opened. He discovered that they were wet, not only from the cold rain that had begun to fall since he fell asleep, but also because he had begun to cry during so. Rolling onto his side, he shut his eyes and hugged himself, letting only a few whimpers escape him as he attempted to cry silently. The only thing that shut him up at that second, was the sound of his name being called.<p>

"Sherman!" It wasn't the voice from the dream, or a voice he really wanted to hear at that moment.

It was the voice of his adopted father, Mr. Peterson. Panicking, the ginger boy jumped to his feet and darted off further into the alley way, desperate to get away from the man. It wasn't that his home life now was an awful one, not at all like that. He had a warm roof over his head and food like a normal child would want. The problem came with the family itself. He had a little sister, Penny, now. Though she was not to happy about having a new sibling and would often find several ways to get her 'brother' in trouble, and when that happened, his new 'mom' would often take her side while Mr. Peterson (He couldn't bring himself to call him dad) would either shove him in a closet to think about what he had done, or would just send him up to his room and ignore him for the rest of the evening and most of the day. That's what lead him to run away from their new home.

"I can't go back there!" He exclaimed to himself in a hush tone, fearing being heard.

"Where is that little brat?" The old man's voice could be heard echoing down the near empty alley, sending a shiver down the child's spine.

His outline could be seen as clear as day from the alley's entrance, a flash of lightning behind him made him look all the more menacing. Sherman held his breath, and just prayed to anyone listening that he would go away soon. Luckily, within seconds, the man turned on his heels, and walked away. Sherman sighed in relief and was about to walk out of the alley when someone grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the darkened area. A hand was clapped over his mouth a few seconds later. Who ever this person was, he was a lot stronger than the little boy who try if he may, could not get away.

"Leaving already?" The voice croaked, gripping his small wrist a little tighter and beginning to drag him. "Why don't you stop and stay a while...?"

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><p><strong>To Be Continued...<strong>


	5. A Stranger On The Plane

**Life Without You**

**A/N: I'm back folks! Sorry for the long break but I had started this story, and then started on three other stories so I never really got back around to this one since it seemed as though people had lost interest in it. Anywho, I'm back and I'm back with another update to this story because I looked at my reviews and saw that six people did review that chapter then it was only fair to update. **

**P.S: My mom is so funny when shes on a plane. Unless shes with my step-dad then she will flip out and panic XD I know that's mean but she told me that once she was so anxious that my step-dad traded his drink ticket to sit next to her but the guy ended up giving him both of the tickets, stating that my step-dad 'Would need them more than he did'.**

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><p>Airports in general were enough to give the dog the creeps. Ever since he was a pup they just didn't sit right with him. He believed his fear had all begun on the second trip he ever took in a plane and the airport lost his bag, the altitude would have been smoother if they took off from the side of the Rocky Mountains, and he ended up being locked in an airplane toilet room just to calm himself. Regardless of his fear, he knew he would have to suck it up if he ever wanted the chance to see his boy again. So here he was now, in a plane, sitting in a seat, breathing into a paper bag as he tried to calm his nerves.<p>

"Hey buddy?" A fellow passenger asked as he nudged him with his hand. "You okay?"

"You know, I really wish I was." The dog gasped, tensing a bit from the nudge. "I'm not a very good flyer as you can tell."

"And I can." The passenger commented with a shake of the head as they reached into their bag and withdrew a slip of paper. "Here, take this."

Peabody rose an eyebrow and unlatched one paw from the leather arm-rest long enough to snag the paper and then looked down at it. It was a free-drink-ticket, which were tickets mainly given out to adults on a flight for free alcoholic drinks. Normally, the dog would have just refused to ticket and have gone back to hyperventilating into that paper bag, but today was a special occasion. Its not everyday that you go onto a rescue mission to find your son on an alternate timeline due to a trip in your 'flying space-apple' altering the timeline you were on and preventing your son from being yours. What, that doesn't happen to anyone else? Anyhow, he took the ticket anyway despite his better judgment and held onto it for the time being.

"Thank you for this." He said with a nod of the head. "I apologize in advance for anything I do during this flight."

"Think nothing of it." The passenger laughed, withdrawing a magazine from inside the holder rack attached to the seat and buried into it, apparently finding it far more interesting than the dog. "Happens to the best of us."

The dog took a deep breath and took to staring down at the piece of paper in between his fingers. For some reason, the little bit of reading material helped somewhat with his anxiety, that was until he handed it over to an attendant and took a straight shot of what he thought might be vodka or whiskey. He hadn't been very clear when the woman asked what he wanted, just pointed to a random glass on her cart because he was to inexperience with alcohol to really know what it was, then that's when the small bit of reading material stopped working.

"Feel better?" The passenger asked with a slight snicker when viewing the dog's actions.

"Nope." Peabody responded, though his tone did not convey that anything was in fact wrong at all.

"I take it your a lightweight?" A nod answered this. "Why did you take it then?"

"Listen, if I had to choose between my anxiety keeping me grounded and flying, then I'd the latter." Peabody explained, taking another sip of his drink.

"That leads to my next question: Why are you flying anyway?" The dog tensed when he heard this. "Must be someone or something pretty important to cause you to do this."

Peabody paused and drew in his lip a bit. He couldn't possibly explain to this person what had happened, for the story itself was so unrealistic that he would more than likely be dubbed insane. The WABAC was no longer in existence, so he would never be able to prove what he said was factual, so coming up with a story fast, he turned to the man and smiled softly.

"I am going to see my son, Sherman." He said simply, his smile faltering only the slightest at the sound of the boy's name.

"Your son, eh?" The passenger laughed softly and shook it's head slowly. "I take it hes adopted? Pretty sure I heard of a case or cartoon like that."

"Of a dog adopting a boy? Being the father of a human child." Peabody summed up, shaking his head slowly. "It might as well have just been the latter, a cast of pure fiction."

"Is that so?" The response came suddenly, almost automatically. "Can I assume you mean that metaphorically?"

"I wish you could." Peabody said, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "He won't see me as any kind of father in this world unfortunately."

A dull silence followed, leaving an uncomfortable tension between the two and only breaking with the passenger let out a soft chuckle. Peabody's eyebrows knitted together slightly in confusion but he assumed that he would get an explanation in a moment or two. The chuckle came to an end and the person beside him turned to him with a knowing grin stretched across his lips.

"Ah, I see." The man said with a nod and yet another chuckle. "You hear about stuff like this a lot with children, fights happen and next thing you know they're all orphans."

"That is spot on, actually." Peabody said with a shake of the head. "That is why I am hoping to make amends, before I don't have any more chances."

A wider smile sprouted on the other's lips as he listened intently to what Peabody had to say. Nodding his head in a reverse fashion of the dog, he closed his eyes and smiled.

"You and I have the same quest in mind." He said simply, eyes fluttering ever so slightly before sliding shut again. "Funny thing about children... No matter how much time has passed, and no matter what happens... They always know who cares about them... Who their real families are..."

"Is th-" Peabody turned and frowned when he saw the passenger's breathing even out and realized he was now at rest.

Shaking his head yet again, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his stomach idly. The plane ride would last another hour before they reached their destination. All the while, Peabody found himself thinking about what the other had just said. Maybe it was from the drink, but he suddenly felt a tad giddy when he thought of it.

_They always know who cares about them... Who their real families are..._

Was it at all possible that this may have applied to Sherman as well? That he remembered Peabody as much as Peabody remembered him?

Maybe he did, but this lead to a new problem, one that left Peabody with a new and much more intense anxiety that no amount of vodka could get rid of.

Which Peabody would Sherman remember?


	6. And Two Simple Words

**A/N: Hey guys. Welcome back to Life Without You.**

**Other Notes: My DeviantArt now has fanart if you want to look at it. This is for this story and for my other fanfiction 'Mother's Day'.**

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><p><em>They always know who cares about them... Who their real families are...<em>

_Was it at all possible that this may have applied to Sherman as well? That he remembered Peabody as much as Peabody remembered him?_

_Maybe he did, but this lead to a new problem, one that left Peabody with a new and much more intense anxiety that no amount of vodka could get rid of._

_Which Peabody would Sherman remember?_

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><p>Sherman sighed in relief and was about to walk out of the alley when someone grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the darkened area. A hand was clapped over his mouth a few seconds later. Who ever this person was, he was a lot stronger than the little boy who try if he may, could not get away.<p>

"Leaving already?" The voice croaked, gripping his small wrist a little tighter and beginning to drag him. "Why don't you stop and stay a while...?"

Sherman gasped and kicked at the figure behind him in fright. He didn't know who was behind him, but he did know that whoever it was, they sounded strangely familiar. He didn't know if he should be relieved by this, or terrified. Relieved because he remembered someone who wasn't the Peterson's or terrified because he couldn't put a face to a voice. Kicking once more like crazy, he attempted to full himself free, or at least turn himself around enough that he could see the person's face. The second happened, and he turned to find the face of- No one...

"W-what the?" He gasped, turning around several times and looking around, just in time to hear the voice of Patty Peterson break through the still air.

"Sherman!" She called, looking around the side-walk before quickly going on her way like before.

All the blood in the red-head's body ran cold as he watched her walk away, realizing that their paths had nearly crossed, and if they had then he would have been dragged back to that home with her. Frowning, he quickly recovered enough of his wits to look back behind him for the figure that had held him back before he had walked off. Once more, he found no one except empty boxes and rats from the alley. A small smirked pulled at the sides of his lips as he stayed facing that direction for just a few seconds more.

"I don't know who you are yet... But thank you." He whispered in a calm voice as he quickly scurried out of the alley once more and made a b-line for across the street, ducking in and out of another walking crowd before taking cover in yet another space between buildings.

Once he was safely tucked away, he peered out of his new hiding place and searched for the Peterson's. Both were out of sight and there-for out of mind. The figure from before however, was not, and Sherman found himself looking back across the street at the alley for a hopeful sign of it. None was found of course, and he inhaled deeply and took a few steps back, further submerging himself into the darkness where he felt safe.

"That was close... But what do I do now...?" He wondered outloud as he plopped himself down into the driest part of the cement and bringing his knees up to his chest.

Escaping from that house had been his first goal, and his only goal up until now. He had no other plans now, though he would soon need some as he couldn't stay in this alley forever. He also couldn't keep wondering off into his dreams as he so often did. That funny dog in his time machine was not coming back for him, and that final dream had been proof of that. Huffing, he shut his eyes up tightly and tried his hardest to think of what to do next, a plan to get him out of where he was now and route to follow shortly after. His ideas all ran stale though, and were usually shot down by him before they even had a chance to form. Sighing sadly, his eyes flashed opened and he dramatically tossed himself onto his side, only to be alarmed suddenly by the sound of crushing paper beneath his head.

"What-" He sat up quickly and looked down at the paper beneath him.

It was a newspaper, with a simple headline, composed of two simple words and below it, a less than simple picture. A white dog, not quite the same dog that Sherman had often dreamt of, but a white dog by any other name. He didn't wear a red bow-tie, nor did he dawn any spects. No, this was a plain and simple dog. What made him not so simple were his eyes however, which were wide like a humans and designed just the same, dawning an unnatural color to them as well. Thats what made the dog stand out and those two simple words just seemed to make him pop. Sherman's eyes suddenly drew from the dog and back to them, re-reading them until his eyes blurred from a lack of blinking.

"Thats what I'll do... I have to! Its my only chance." Sherman announced, tearing the headline free from its page and tucking it into his pocket.

With a new found strength, he got to his feet and faced the opening of the alley with a sort of determination in his eyes, and with a final huff the boy took off running. He didn't know where he was going, but he did know one thing. He finally had a goal in mind and it was a plain and simple one, simply spelled out in just two short words.

_**Find Him.**_


End file.
